


Sanity is overrated

by siren_of_the_ocean



Series: The doll [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Coraline - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Illusions, Mild Gore, Mute Prudence Wood, Thriller, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siren_of_the_ocean/pseuds/siren_of_the_ocean
Summary: Tim Drake doesn't make it back to Gotham after taking down the league of assassins. Instead he finds himself in a world that is perfect.Jason is no longer insane, Damian isn't trying to kill him, Superman believes him and Dick apologized.But. Why does Tim feel so strange? Why does his mind squirm away from his family and friends?Why does he see buttons over their eyes when he isn't looking?
Relationships: Bart Allen & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Anita Fite, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Cissie King-Jones, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Greta Hayes, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake & Prudence Wood
Series: The doll [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1878559
Comments: 26
Kudos: 233





	1. It begins

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. So I know a lot of people liked the other stories like Blue Button eyes and Beldames and their habits but this is going to be a lot darker. More psychological thriller. 
> 
> The first chapter is short but it should give the tone for the rest of the story.

"Well detective" Ra's al Ghul says, watching as his bases turn to rubble, brought to their end by a boy. A very smart boy but a boy none the less. "I will have to make sure you know how well I've been protecting you". 

The Lazarus pits had fallen as well, all but the last. Nanda Parbat. He will have to relocate, move back to the first city to rejuvenate before he can instigate his revenge. Ideas already dancing through his mind. 

Motioning to one of the assassins in his presence, he beckons them to move closer, a pen and paper in hand. "I revoke all protections placed upon Timothy Drake. From the mundane to the magical" Ra's says, expressing an order for the ninja to dictate it down. Not noticing the ripple of horror on the ninja's faces. 

The smile on Ra's face reflects against the blank computer, still standing amongst the rubble. The smile of a killer. The smile of a madman. The smile of a man with nothing left to lose. 

Xxxxxx

The glint of metal as it slides through fabric, stitching, stitching, stitching but creating nothing. Not anymore. 

That had been the life for the Beldame. At least after Coraline Jones. Should have killed the girl once she refused, She thinks, smiling at the thought. 

Her claws slide through fabric, white trailing after them life thread even as it twitches with a life of it's own. Her face has aged, cheeks hollow and thin, skin stretched over bones like wet paper. 

The years hadn't been kind to her, locked in a world with no games, no sustenance and no help. The puppets had faded long ago, when she absorbed them, attempting to lengthen her lifespan. Even the rats had become piles of stuffing not too long ago. 

Dying. That's what it was. She is dying. 

The clang on metal interrupts her thoughts, a sound on the other side of the door. 

She latches onto the sound with a desperation of a dying woman. Staring at the door with beady black eyes, unnervingly empty. Her claws pierce the fabric with sharp points, drawing a squeal of pain. 

Then. For the first time in years, the door opens. Revealing the doorway, stuffy and dusty as it is. She can't help but take a deep breath of the stale air. 

The smile on her face stretches, reaches across dimensions and time to find the one who put her here. Who caused her pain. 

Instead of finding Coraline, she finds a boy with black hair, eyes blue as bluebells. Coraline's descendant, it seems. 

He will do. 

xxxxxx

Tim relishes in his victory, Tam at his side as he books her a flight back to Gotham. 

Lucius wouldn't have sent his daughter after him for nothing, after all. There has to be something wrong, desperately wrong. And Tim can't follow at the moment. 

Asking Tam why her father would send her here, she explains that Bruce Wayne had been acting strange, the only thing she could think of. Tim can't help but freeze at the name.

Bruce? But Bruce is missing, isn't he? Still in the timeline somewhere. He has to be. So who is Tam talking about? 

After inquiring, Tam explains that Bruce Wayne showed up but he seemed more...vapid than usual. If that was even possible, of course. The business was taking a nosedive with Bruce's expenses skyrocketing, deals falling to ash in Bruce's fingertips. Her father couldn't hold it all together anymore. 

That makes Tim shake his head, deciding to deal with it once they reached Gotham. He sends Tam ahead, on a commercial flight of her own. He hadn't entered the country by his name, after all and Alvin Draper is now a criminal in more than one country. 

He would take the few days he bargained from her to set up a new identity. Make it to Gotham by the end of the week and then take care of whatever nonsense has popped up to delay him this time. 

He can't help but smile at his previous victory. Ra's bases in ruins, the Council of spiders captured, Pru freed from the league and their indoctrination. It's been a good time, he realises. 

The smile dims at the thought of how he got here, though. Jason trying to kill him again, Damian becoming Robin, Dick wanting to send him to Arkham, Cassie calling him insane. His dad's face flashes over his mind, eyes bright and smile wide. Kon's face follows, kind and friendly. Bart's, energetic and optimistic. Bruce. Z and Owens. 

Biting his lip, he takes a breath to settle his breathing, his expression turning back to neutrality. He'd sleep for the night. Set up a fake identity tomorrow. Make it to Gotham by Friday and hopefully have that mess sorted out by Sunday. 

Laying down on the bed, he closes his eyes, ignoring the aches and pains that have become almost constant at this point in his life. 

He wouldn't make it to Gotham, though. Wouldn't even make it out of the room he falls asleep in, quietly dragged into a small door in the wall, the edges glowing faintly green and blue.


	2. Everything is great

Everyone knows the sensation of waking up. The slow pass from deep sleep to asleep to waking. It's a unique sensation that cannot be described. 

However, when that sensation is missing, it is immediately prevalent. 

Tim doesn't wake. He can feel that. He simply opens his eyes. 

Abruptly sitting up, he tenses, looking around the room and reaching for a weapon. The walls around him are familiar yes, but not where he went to bed. No. Instead the walls around him are from his room in Wayne Manor. 

The same off-white shading to the walls, a small smear of oil near one of the corners, always present no matter how much Alfred scrubs at it. The same bookcase off to the side that displays his camera and lenses instead of actual books. The same dresser and closet. The posters on the wall. Everything is precisely where it should be. How it should be. 

Tim doesn't trust it. 

Reaching under his pillow, he finds his collapsed staff, as it should be. He has a better chance at whatever madness this is when he's armed, after all. 

The fourth tile on the way to the door creaks when you step on it, Tim knows, stepping to the right of it. The light streams from a slit in his closed curtains, filling the room with the light of day. 

As he reaches for the door handle, the door seems to open by itself, swinging inward. Tim reacts immediately, estimating where the torso of the person should be and taking a swing, his staff extending as it lashes out. 

"Oof" 

The body drops to the ground, gasping for air through what are most likely bruised ribs. Tim might not have swung to break anything but he did aim to do damage. 

"Timmy, what the hell?" the voice of Dick Grayson asks, still gasping as he reaches to clasp a hand to the site of impact. 

Tim has to take a physical step back at that. Because the voice sounds right. It sounds like Dick. The body, now that he's looking, looks right. It looks like Dick Grayson. 

Bit Dick Grayson isn't here. Shouldn't be here. Of course, Tim shouldn't be here either. He should be in a hotel room somewhere in Iraq but is currently, inexplicably in Wayne manor. 

"Who are you?" Tim asks, his voice cold and calculating, deliberate in a way he's never used on Dick. Never wanted to either. Extenuating circumstances call for it now. 

The look Dick gives him looks about right, though the smile sits strangely on Dick's lips. Not quite right, not quite natural. "Tim. Baby bro. Has it really been so long that you don't recognize your own brother?" he asks, drawing Tim into a sideways hug. 

Tim takes the opportunity, wedging the short staff between them to create distance "I fell asleep in Europe. Nor only am I no longer in Europe, but I do not remember traveling. Explain that to me" Tim demands, still suspicious. He keeps the staff between him and Dick, attention fixated on the enemy in front of him. 

Which is why Superman is able to sneak up behind him "That would be my doing". Instinctively, Tim pins his back to a wall, spinning to put both enemies in his line of sight. To his right, the person that spoke, he can see Superman, or rather, for the moment, Clark Kent. 

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you" Clark laughs, hands up in a gesture of good faith. Breathing slowing, Tim lowers his staff. It wouldn't do anything against Clark anyway. If it even was Clark. But that possibility becomes more solid as he explains. 

"We wanted to speak to you. So I followed your heartbeat and found you in some hotel in Iraq. You were out cold so I decided to spare you the plane trip and carry you here" 

It makes sense, Tim thinks. Clark can carry people without jostling them. And Tim had to have been wiped from the battle with the Council of Spiders. It is quite possible that he just passed out and didn't wake up when Clark flew him here. 

Looking at them both, he relaxes. This is his brother and Superman, for crying out loud. Who else can he trust? 

But that is the voice of a small child, he reminds himself. Superman didn't believe you, he reminds himself, Dick wanted to throw you in Arkham. 

Glancing back up, he again tenses as he asks "What do you want?". While his voice isn't as emotionless as it was before, it is now filled with forced blankness. The voice that Tim uses on most enemies. 

It makes Dick flinch, reach up to his neck to scratch at his scalp before he speaks, voice cracking along the way "I. We. Uhm". Tim glares at him to get on with it. 

"We wanted to apologize"

Tim turns to Clark, shoulders stiff and eyes slightly wide, Clark looks completely serious, expression sincere. "We shouldn't have dismissed everything you said. We especially shouldn't have sent you off alone. Whether or not you were right, we shouldn't have abandoned a grieving child like that" Clark continues, giving Dick an admonishing look. 

"Yeah. I shouldn't have let Damian take Robin from you, either. I mean, I know how I reacted to Jason becoming Robin and it wasn't good. I'm sorry" Dick chimes in, a small smile in his face, the tilt of his cheeks almost apologetic. 

It makes Tim swallow heavily, trying to force the emotionless mask back over his expression. He's wanted to hear those words for months now. An apology and an explanation? Much better than he had even hoped for. 

"Um. Damian actually wanted to see you, too. Along with Jason" Dick says, voice hesitant before he rushes out the next sentence "I promise they aren't going to be violent or anything. They've grown". Clark nodding along with him in the background. 

Tim almost wants to refuse. Wants to take the good the universe had deigned to give him and run while he can. But Tim has never been prone to giving up. Or to run away from his problems, since it's never done him any good. 

Nodding, Tim agrees to see the two brothers who have attempted to kill him. 

"Damian was actually pretty deceptive to the idea that you don't have to kill your predecessor. It was like those scenes from Addams Family, well the live action movie where they try to kill the baby anyway" 

"Jason was a bit more difficult but for some reason, all the lazarus pits were destroyed last night and it seemed to just...take away the pit rage? Almost, if not completely" 

Tim stops at the mention of the destroyed lazarus pits, unsure if he should tell them that it was him who blew them up. Deciding to wait and see how Jason reacts to Tim's mere existence, he keeps his mouth shut. 

When they round the corner, Tim can immediately see Jason, sitting on the couch in the living room with a book in his hand. Not an unusual sight, though Jason prefers to avoid the manor completely. The second thing that Tim can see is Damian, on the floor with a pencil as he draws Alfred the cat. 

Neither of them raise their heads as they enter, completely still for a few seconds before Superman clears his throat. It seems to spark life into them, Damian lifting his head slowly to look at the doorway while Jason places a bookmark. 

Once they see Tim, he can see them tense and still. Presumably in guilt. He can see some of it in their eyes, Jason's bluer than Tim's seen them since his Robin days. 

Damian is the first to stand, walking slowly to stand before Tim, looking up at him with a blank expression "I apologize for my actions toward you. I was unsure of my place within the family and decided to ensure my place through you're destruction. This was wrong of me and I hope that I may one day earn your forgiveness"

As Tim is computing the absurdly worded statement from the 10 year old, Jason draws up beside him with a shy smile. The one Tim had seen when Robin slipped on a patch of ice and glanced around to see if anyone saw. "I agree with the Baby Bat. I might have been insane but I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I was angry at Bruce and the Joker. You were in no way involved. I'm sorry". 

In Tim's mind, danger bells start to ring, egged on by the strange pull of Dick's lips, the strange way that Jason is leaning away from Superman and the way Alfred the cat still hadn't moved a muscle. 

In his mind, he looks the problem over before deciding to ignore the observations. Dick probably still feels guilty, Jason had always been more of a Wonder Woman fan and Alfred the cat...is a cat. They tend to move only when they want to.


	3. Visitors and old friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anita, Greta and Cissie get their turn. Along with a brief appearance of Pru

The day passes as normal, though that in and of itself is very strange for this family. 

No-one yells. No attempted murders, not even a stabbing. It's suspicious.

But Tim has always been told to not look a gift horse in the mouth, lest it take a bite. So he takes the bite of strange with the normal. He sits with Dick and watches some cheesy Disney movie. He watches Jason carefully avoid him with every step. He doesn't complain. 

All the good has to have an offset, though. Tim keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

It never comes. 

Instead, his life takes another step for the better. Pru shows up at the manor, smiling as she knocks on the door. She still has a bandage wrapped around her throat, a reminder of the attack they barely survived. 

She still can't speak, most likely never will. The damage to her larynx is extensive but she survived and that is a miracle on it's own. Both of them did, actually and though Tim still mourns the 2 team members lost, he still has Pru. 

She and Cass would get along great, Tim thinks as she goes to speak. Only for no sound to escape. She huffs out a breath of frustration, shakily lifting her hand to sign. 

Her sign language is shaky and very basic, still in the elementary stages of learning. Tim will help her learn. He and Cass learned together after she came to the manor. 

"Would you please welcome Miss. Wood into the house, Master Tim?" Alfred asks, hovering in a doorway with some of Tim's favorite snacks. Tim freezes for a moment, wondering how Alfred knows Pru, let alone her surname. It's quickly dismissed with a thought of, Alfred knows all. 

Pru signs at Tim with a raised brow "A mansion, Red. Are you f-ing serious?" and Tim has to withhold a smile. Of course Pru would deign to learn the curse words first. "Wayne" he signs back. 

He backtracks at her confusion before he realises that Pru wouldn't know the signs for their names. So he takes the moment to show her the signs for "Tim", "Wayne" and "Red Robin". He could teach her the others later. 

They sit down to eat the snacks Alfred brought, Pru choking on the little pizza full of anchovies and artichoke hearts, like many of his friends so. Tim doesn't pay it any mind, it just means he gets more pizza for himself, luckily. 

"What have you been up to?" Tim asks, signing as he does. She proceeds to tell him all about the last few months, wandering around and checking up on the mostly destroyed league bases. She reports that Ra's is rebuilding, though it is going slowly. 

At times, she doesn't know the sign or even how to explain some things without words so she writes it down on a piece of paper. It makes for a very dynamic conversation, especially when Pru keeps signing curse words in the middle of sentences because those are the words she knows best. 

She soon tells him that she'll be staying in the city for a bit, since Ra's is kind of hunting her down. She'll be staying in the Bowery, in an apartment she rented. 

Tim offers her the use of one of his safe houses, still in the Bowery but more protected against dangers, including Ra's. She refuses. Tim insists. She's stubborn but Tim is more stubborn. 

She eventually concedes, on the condition that Tim take some time off with his friends. As she says that, Tim's mind flashes back to Kon, to Bart. Their faces almost...blurry. It makes his lips twitch, wanting to snarl. 

He won't forget them. With that thought, the images clear, Kon's blue eyes coming into focus, his devil-may-care smile. Bart's hair becomes as untamable as ever, his eyes sparking with mischief as they always did. 

"I'll go talk to Cassie. I...haven't seen her in a while" Tim says, trying to edge around the apprehension in his tone. He can remember Cassie at Bruce's "Grave", telling him that he's insane. That he's wrong. 

But she'll all I have left, he thinks spitefully. So he will go to Titans tower. He will see Cassie and possibly yell at her. Maybe that is the offset to this situation. 

When Pru leaves to the apartment, Tim leaves the manor with her. Alfred, in an uncanny show of strangeness, doesn't ask where they're going. Doesn't offer them snacks or a drink either. 

The streets are the same, even after months of being gone. Nothing has changed and Tim isn't sure how to feel about that. 

So he doesn't think about it. He pushes it out of his mind, snapping to attention as he passes the way to his nest. There, he says goodbye to Pru and heads in the direction of his apartment. 

The streets are empty, he notices. Street kids few and far between, with many of the homeless people still as they lay on the sidewalk. No-one notices him as he passes, the street kids giving him a single look over before they scurry away. No-one passes him either. No-one else on the street with him. 

The only thing to pay him any attention are the rats, their beady eyes trained on him as he walks. Gotham rats always seemed intelligent, for rats but these seem to have some sort of actual sentience. Tim can only hope that no-one had been experimenting on them and possibly causing a Rat overtake of the city. 

He ignores the stares on the back of his head, thinking that there might be more rats out than people. He has to grimace at the thought. But he moves on. 

Arriving at his nest, he remembers that he didn't bring the key. Hasn't even held the key in months now but the door opens under his touch, unlocked. 

It piques Tim's paranoia, forcing him to fall into a fighting stance in the doorway. He can hear voices from the living room too, 3 voices, all female. He vaguely recognizes them but with the last few months, that might not be a good thing. 

Keeping to the rug, Tim steps silently as he makes his way to the living room doorway. The corners are open, as he designed, to allow sightlines. But the living room can only be seen into from directly in the doorway. 

"Tim!"

It's Greta, her voice cheerful and happy as she throws herself into Tim's arms. She's been touch starved ever since she got her body back, of course. And sitting there with her are 2 more girls that Tim didn't think he'd see again. Cissie King-Jones and Anita Fite. 

They both smile at his presence, standing up from the couch to greet him. Both of them dressed in civvies and happily munching on a bag of family sized doritos, though Anita seems to be eating most of it, Cissie not taking a single chip. 

The 3 girls from Tim's young justice days. The 3 that are now retired. In his apartment. 

"Guys?" Tim asks, confused at their presence. After all, didn't Greta have college? Didn't Anita have to take care of her parents? And Cissie avoids anything to do with Young Justice whenever she can. So why are they here? 

"We heard you were back in so we decided to visit, mon" Anita explains, her voice understanding, as if she can understand Tim's thoughts. Cissie and Greta nod along, Greta's smile less...flirtatious than it was during their young justice days. Even Cissie seems a little less strong willed.

Tim was fully expecting to be chewed out by her when he got back. He dissapeared after all and Cissie was never a fan of being left out of the loop. She would tear him a new one and would have, maybe not enjoyed doing it but definitely gone through with it as happily as a clam.

Anita seems to pick up on Tim's confusion, as he stares at Cissie. She gives him a sharp smile, calculating before it turns sympathetic. 

With a nudge from Anita, Cissie's attitude seems to change, going from happy and friendly to relieved but angry. She starts lecturing Tim on teams and self preservation, finally admitting that he had scared her. 

It seems strange. Cissie and Anita barely got along but now a nudge from Anita almost seemed to give her permission to speak her mind. Maybe they bonded after everything that happened. 

"Now Tim, why don't you tell us about everything. We haven't seen each other in a while" Anita says, her eyes glinting in the light. Some people may have called it relief or happiness. Tim certainly chose to. But the other occupants of the room wanted to draw away. To run. That smile can mean nothing good. 

Even as they thought that, the thoughts were wiped away, leaving only vapid smiles and bodies empty of soul.


	4. Business is business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things just keep getting better

As everything good tends to do, the visit has to end. Greta has to go back to college, she'd started twitching in anxiety not too long ago. Explaining that she had an assignment to hand in, she was the first to leave. Her eyes almost seemed dulled as she exited the door, eyes as blank as they were when she was on Apokalips. 

Cissie is second to leave, as her mother had called. A new role in a movie, she had said. Not a huge role but a role none the less "And you know how my mom is" she says, missing the bitterness that usually infuses those words. 

Tim excuses them both, knowing that they have busy lives, especially since they don't do hero work anymore. College, kids, movies. It all has to be so draining so he gives them the opportunity to leave. 

Anita is the last one left over. Even if she did have the most time constraints. Caring for babies was never easy, after all. And now she had 2. But she stays anyway, brushing off Tim's concern with a wave of her hand. 

They talk for a while longer until Anita's stomach growls lowly. "Hungry?" Tim asks jokingly, as if the noise didn't tell him exactly what he needed to know. 

Anita's eyes turn hungry for a second. The same way a spider looks at their prey but when Tim turns to confirm, it's gone. Replaced by a joking glint and a laugh as she agrees. 

Tim offers to order something in. Anything Anita wants. But Anita declines, saying that she has a craving for something specific that you can't get from around here. Tim offers to help her make whatever she wants but she declines again, saying that if she's hungry, her parents probably are too so she should probably get back. 

Tim nods, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. She's busy after all. And they had all visited to make sure that he's alright. He couldn't be happier that they did that for him. But he can't help the sadness at them leaving already. 

Anita smiles at him, recommending "You should probably go to work anyway. Make sure that W.E. hasn't fallen apart without you". Tim frowns at that, saying "It's like 2 in the afternoon, Nita" but Anita merely laughs, pointing to the clock on the wall. 

The clock Tim could swear had said 2: 35 a second ago now reads 7:50 in the evening. The sky outside dark and glittering. Time really does fly when you're having fun, Tim thinks as he greets Anita. 

As always, he isn't really hungry, even if he had skipped dinner. So he simply goes to bed for the night, curling around this feeling of contentment that just seems to grow as he thinks about it. 

xxxx

Again, Tim doesn't really wake up. Because he doesn't think he actually falls asleep. He tells rested, yes but he doesn't remember the sensation of waking up. 

He doesn't think too hard on it as he scrambles to get ready. Grabbing a dark grey suit and a baby pink button down, along with a darker pink tie to complete the ensemble. 

Driving to W.E. is a dream. No traffic. In fact, no other cars on the road at all. No trucks trying to ram into his beautiful car and no taxis vying for space. All in all, it is the most relaxing drive he's had in Gotham. Ever. 

Suspicion rises in his throat as he glances around the empty road. There is literally no chance of that happening in Gotham. Maybe the block is quarantined? Or there was major damage to another road, blocking this one off?   
He shakes his head, watching out of the corner of his eye as another car finally approaches. 

A plain black Golf with a single passenger. Out of the corner of Tim's eyes, he sees something over their eyes, a shadow of black, wider than any pair of sunglasses. Immediately turning his head, Tim looks directly at the driver, seeing only the normal face of a person. 

His eyes narrow as his mind spins. But he's already late for work so he brushes it off as best he can. 

W.E. is the same as always. Large and imposing as you approach. The 50 story building of glass and metal gleaming in the morning sun. 

The receptionist waves at him as he enters, smile in place like the advertisement of a customer service role. Tim waves back anyway, because he might not have worked in customer service but he's heard the horror stories. 

The next person he sees is Tam, sitting in his office on the 40th floor. He doesn't see anyone in the hallways or the elevator. 

Entering his office, he shoves at the glass door with his shoulder, not paying attention to the inside. That's why he startles when he sees a full human laid out on his couch. 

It's only Tam, luckily but he has to stand and get his heart under control after the shock. Seeing as he hasn't even had coffee today yet, his heart beats much faster than it should. 

"Tam. You just about gave me a heart attack" he says, still holding a hand to his chest as his heart rabbits around inside. Tam gives him a tired smile, holding out a cup of take-away coffee for him. On the cup is a logo that he will recognize anywhere. From his favorite brewery down the street. 

"I forgive you. You are the best" He says as he grabs the coffee from her hand, noticing that she doesn't have anything else. Not even a coffee for herself. "Do you want half?" Tim asks, frowning at the cup in his hand, to which Tam just shakes her head "No thank you. I already drank mine. You're late by the way" she points out. 

Tim can't help but smile sheepishly at her. He didn't mean to be late. He just got slightly sidetracked by a visual hallucination. The shadow over the drivers' eyes still stuck in his mind. 

He can't tell her that, though, he can only smile at her and hope for her forgiveness as she stares him down. She caves earlier than he expected, however. For a girl that faced the League of assassins and the council of spiders. 

"Here is your paperwork for the time you were gone. Here are the CVs for the position of your assistant and here is the new job contract for CEO of Wayne Enterprises" she says, laying them all out on the table. 

The paperwork is somewhat expected. He's been floating around the R&D department for a while before he left, instigating projects for Bruce and Batman alike. The CVs are less expected, since he doesn't even actually work here. But the clincher is the contract. 

"Who is the new CEO?" Tim asks with dread lacing through his tone only to have Tam outright laugh at him. "Tim. You're the new CEO. Welcome to corporate" she says happily. 

Tim can only sit there in shock as he signs the contract. CEO of Wayne Enterprises, what? Why? How? He's only 16. But he signs the paperwork with shaky hands, Tam watching him all the while with a smile. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur of CVs. An assistant? Why would he need an assistant? He's only been CEO for an hour! 

But his mind keeps drawing back to Tam. Strong willed and courageous. Good with numbers and tracking and logic. She would make the best assistant, a voice in his head whispers. 

He nods along with it, as he gets back into his car. It's already dark enough out that he can see some of the stars through the smog. Soon enough, it would be time for patrol. 

And he is so looking forward to that.


	5. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything gets better part 2. But a storm is brewing in the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in one day? It's more likely than you think. 
> 
> Also, they're short chapters.

Gotham at night will never change, Tim thinks, looking out at the city he was born in. The smog obscuring the stars from his vision. The gargoyles staring down at the street, judging. The shadows in the alleys almost seeming alive. 

It's all Gotham. The city. The beauty. The life. 

There are a few people out tonight. Street kids and working girls, mostly. Fewer people than usual, even for the winter months but it isn't unusual for people to seek shelter. 

The rooftops feel the same. Grit and dust and rocks flying as Tim lands in a roll. His suit coated in the essence that is Gotham. 

Damn, he's missed this. Even running around the world as Red Robin hadn't soothed his soul this well as his city does. 

Everything is familiar. Everything is in place. The drug deals stick to their areas, Arkham is quiet for once and the family stick to their routes. 

It's only toward the end of patrol that something even mildly interesting happens. 

Superman hovers at the edge of Tim's vision, floating in his distinctive blue and red. There's a dark shadow over his eyes, the same way that the driver had earlier in the day, Tim noticed out of the corner of his eye. But every time Tim actually turns to look, the shadow is gone. 

Tim allows Superman to catch up to him, wondering what he's doing in Gotham. There really should be no reason now that he's apologized, right? 

When Supes lands, he displaces the air slightly, a flicker of....something flashing over Tim's vision. But it's over by the time Tim notices. 

"Hey Tim" Superman says, smiling brightly in a way that doesn't belong on Gotham. As if reading his thoughts, Superman's smile dims, his eyes turning more serious as he continues "I know that we've established that I'm sorry about what I did. But, I haven't actually done anything to make it better. So here I am. I want do take you to the watchtower and we can review any evidence that you have that Batman is alive". 

Tim blinks before his smile spread wide. They're listening! They want to see what I did! Those are the only thoughts rushing through Tim's head. So happy that Superman and the others are finally willing to listen. 

Maybe he can actually get Bruce back soon!

He accepts immediately, rushing back to the apartment to find the drives that he's collected all the pictures, artifacts and other information on. It isn't much. And while Tim can see some details, like the deterioration of scratch marks over time, some of the league may dismiss them. 

The realization hits him in the gut like a fist, filling him with anxiety and pressure. It almost feels like a panic attack, he muses, but it doesn't spiral that far. It's as if a force is keeping him from spiraling because it certainly isn't Tim. 

When it's over, Tim stands. Usually he would be unable to stand after spiraling even that far but this time he can stand easily. 

Standing makes his gut twist further. Bile building in his throat but he doesn't sway and pass out. That's an improvement. 

Tim takes a breath, steeling himself for the confrontation. Superman may be on his side but Wonder Woman had opposed him as well and she was difficult to sway on any subject. 

But he clutches the evidence to his chest, taking the first leap out of his apartment as a leap of faith. If they don't listen, then Tim will do it all himself. He can do it. He knows he can. 

Jumping rooftops with a Super is nostalgic, even if this super is the wrong super. Kon always cracked jokes and laughed and randomly picked Tim up to carry him to the next building. Clark does none of that, and it's probably better that way. He doesn't need those memories right now. 

They arrive at the zeta to the watchtower much too quickly, Tim's gut still squirming in anxiety by the time they come face to face with 3 members of the league. Surprisingly, it's only Wonder Woman, Green lantern and Flash. 

Wonder woman's eyes flash with something as Tim approaches, gradually morphing into remorse as he gets closer. It's...striking. Wonder Woman doesn't feel remorse. Though Wonder Woman usually has no reason to feel remorse. 

Green lantern...well Kyle is Kyle. Jason knew him better than tim ever will after that whole multiversal exploration thing. Probably one of the saner Lanterns, especially when compared to Hal. .

Flash...well Barry has always been Barry and really, he's the most optimistic of the lot. Maybe it's good that he's here. 

They both fade into the background with Wonder Woman stepping forward. She holds her head high as Tim presents all the facts, all the information and evidence of Bruce's continued well being. 

"Here are the pictures of pictographs featuring the bat symbol. Here is a picture of a whole batarang in a German museum. I believe that this was his first jump and he moved somewhere else soon enough. Using this information and the date tracing, we could even pinpoint his current location to drag him out of his loop"

All 4 members of the league look over Tim's presentation before they start discussing options. The option that Bruce isn't alive isn't even brought up once. 

"We might need to get Booster Gold involved" 

"What resources would you need to track down his location?"

"I can't run that far back in time. A few years, maybe but we are talking prehistoric times. That is out of my range" 

"I'll ask the guardians if they can give us any information on this" 

They believe him. And they're willing to help him, too. Not just willing but able. 

Bruce would be so proud, Tim thinks as he watches 4 members of the justice league work together with him to grab him from his fate. 

And they would grab him. They would save Bruce just pike Tim has been doing since he was a kid. Whether it was from being found out, being driven mad by grief, being killed in general or from time itself. 

Batman needs a Robin. And since Tim is the only one available, he will be Bruce's Robin.


	6. Ignorance was bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim finds something disturbing and everything falls apart as things click into place.

The planning for the search done, Tim prepares to Zeta back to Gotham. After all, just because Tim had been pulled from patrol early, doesn't mean that there isn't still crime to fight. 

He won't be able to sleep anyway. The adrenaline in his veins still pumping, making him unable to even think about sleeping. The Justice league believed him! They would pull Bruce from the time stream!

The smile on his face almost hurts as he thinks that. Unable to stop the happy expression even as he downs a few thugs. 

A few for-hire thugs in an alley attracts his attention. Gathering around but completely still. Not moving a muscle, probably because they can sense bats by now. 

But even as he drops down in front of the one, he doesn't move. Doesn't startle or react in any way, actually. Completely still like a statue or mannequin as Tim waves a hand in front of his face. 

That is super weird, Tim thinks. Nudging the man a little results in nothing as well. Though the man feels weird. The flesh squishy and movable where it shouldn't be. 

Tim, assuming that someone had put a spell on these people, immediately goes to call Constantine. Zatanna would be nice as well but Constantine is always Tim's first contact for these things. He can always be bribed or otherwise persuaded to drop everything and help. 

This time. Constantine doesn't pick up. The phone doesn't even ring, the number resulting in nothing even as Tim dials again. It's like the number doesn't exist at all. So Tim goes looking. He looks up nearby happenings that would attract Constantine's attention. 

He finds a few things. But. Nothing about Constantine. Absolutely nothing. Like HE doesn't exist. 

Zatanna results in the same result. Same with doctor fate. 

Absolutely nothing. 

xxxxx

Tim doesn't sleep that night. Too caught up in his head as he thinks. 

Why would Constantine not exist anymore? Zatanna? The others too? All of the magic users just gone? In one fell swoop none the less. 

Tim couldn't have missed something that big. He might not have kept up with everything as he traveled but he did keep up somewhat. 

While Constantine would probably be the one to die without anyone knowing, Zatanna is a public figure. Her death would be publicized everywhere and the funeral would be huge. 

But no. It's like they never existed. 

Tim groans, clutching his head in his hands as his head spins further. Trying to draw logical conclusions from the mess that are his observations. 

Slowly, a few other observations start to filter through as well. The strange facial expressions of his family. The shadows over people's eyes he can see from the corner of his vision. The way that Jason and Damian hadn't moved until provoked. Alfred the cat had even stayed completely still like the people in the alley. 

The way Anita had looked at him like he was food. Tam's insistence that Tim go out for patrol. 

The apologies. The way everyone was so nice. The way everything went right. 

Abruptly, Tim becomes aware of the pain in his lip, as he bites down on it. Not enough to draw blood but enough to feel it. He relishes in it. 

While nothing makes sense now, he can make it make sense. 

He goes looking for the family. Walking down hallway after hallway as he looks for someone, anyone at all. His only company is the silence and the dark. 

Wayne manor had never seemed menacing to him before, always feeling like more of a home than Drake manor. Now, though, the hallways are silent. Every corner is dark. There is nothing out of place anywhere. 

And now that Tim is looking, he can see the discrepancies. The vases that he'd broken years ago. The pictures he had never actually taken but really wanted to. The spotless hallways, not a thing out of place. 

None of this is real, Tim thinks. In front of him is a picture of Gotham at night. And he remembers seeing this view one night on patrol. But he also remembers that he'd left his camera at the manor. He remembers wishing that he'd brought it. But he hadn't. This picture doesn't exist. 

And right in front of Tim, the picture dissolves like a Polaroid exposed to light. It fades to white. Then just completely disintegrates as he watches in shock. 

None of this is real. 

This time, Tim's search turns frantic. Looking for his family. Dick, Jason, Alfred, even Damian. He searches every room he can think of, up down, below the furniture, in the chandeliers. Everywhere. 

He finds nothing. 

The only thing that eventually catches his eye is a trail of...thread. A single strand of thread leading from a small hook in the kitchen. 

Thinking that someone had caught their jacket or sleeve on it, he follows the trail of pure white thread. It leads from the kitchen to the living room, down the hall to a room he doesn't recognize. 

A room that doesn't exist. 

Tim is hesitant as he looks at it. It feels like a turning point. Like if he opens this door, he will never be able to go back. But when has Tim ever backed down from that? 

He pushes at the door. 

The door swings open at his touch, the silence of the door more unnerving than if it had squeaked like a horror movie. Pausing before he enters the doorway, Tim takes a breath. 

Whatever he finds can't be that bad. 

It's worse. 

Inside the room are 3 dolls. Made with cloth and stuffed with sand. Ragdolls. But they're human sized. The faces are featureless, black buttons for eyes and the basic lines of a face drawn onto the fabric. 

Tim steps forward, closer to take a better look at them, jumping when one of them twitches. His breath stills in his chest. In front of him he can see the lines of the face drawn onto the fabric change. 

Going from plain white fabric to pink and white like the musculature of a science doll. Then features drawn over that. The features of his Brother. Of Jason. 

Tim doesn't waste a second, stepping backwards and slamming the door. 

He stands in the hallway, breaths rushing past his lips as his heart thunders in his ears. 

But it isn't his heartbeat he hears. 

"Tim! Let me out!" Jason's voice calls out from inside the room. It's a perfect imitation of Jason. The sound, tone and inflection all perfect. But Tim knows that isn't Jason. 

Doesn't know what it is but knows that that isn't his brother. 

So he ignores the calls. Ignores the voices of Dick and Damian joining him. He takes a long look at the door that shouldn't exist. And runs.


	7. Run away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the realization, Tim runs. He can't run far though. Not at all.

Running isn't something Tim usually does. He turns and takes a challenge head on. He can think of 20 examples of him doing that, King snake being the first. 

He can't think of a fight he ran from. 

This time, he doesn't even think too long on turning and running out of the manor. Doesn't waste time thinking. He has no idea how strong those things are. Has no idea how long that door will hold. 

Instead, he runs down the steps, down to his bike. His Redbird. He turns her around, aiming for anywhere but Gotham, revs the bike and takes off at the highest speed he can manage. 

He sees Jason catch up to him first and this time, when he looks, he can see his eyes. He can see the black buttons representing Jason's eyes. It almost makes him crash. 

Tim doesn't take time to stop before he makes it over the bridge. Doesn't even breathe before he can see Gotham fade out behind him. 

The tears in his eyes blur his vision, causing him to swerve erratically as he slows. He doesn't even have the mind to brace as he falls from the bike. 

His arms ache. His knees and forearms skinned beyond belief, bloody and torn with pieces of something in the wounds. Not that he notices this through the panic in his chest. 

It doesn't devolve into an actual panic attack, again feeling like something is stopping that even as he gasps for breath. Instead it feels like his world had been thrown into an industrial shredder. 

Maybe it actually had. 

The not-panic attack lasts a while. Tim sitting there with his head between his knees as he mentally rips this world and its elements to shreds. 

Nothing is real. Not the people, not the city, not the family, not the league, probably not even the reality itself. 

Tim has dealt with reality manipulation before. Knows that pocket dimensions are possible. Knows that some creatures can have full control of these dimensions. 

Now to figure out how he got into those. And how to get out. 

With a mission in mind, Tim's breathing finally slows. His heart stops tying to escape his chest as he finally looks around him for the first time since he left the city. 

Around him, is nothing. Absolutely nothing. 

Not a tree, road, building, person or other object in sight. Only plain white. No distinction between floor and sky. Just...white. Like a blank page. 

Blinking, Tim turns around. He can see Wayne Enterprises way in the distance and the city sprawled out around it. But there is nothing else. No Bludhaven. No Jersey or river. Nothing besides Gotham itself. 

Looking in each direction, Tim looks to the opposite of Gotham and starts walking. He doesn't trust himself to drive Redbird right now, needs the feeling of heels hitting something solid over and over and over again. 

He walks.

He doesn't get hungry. Or thirsty. Not even a twinge of caffeine craving. And he isn't sure if that is a side effect of the universe or the shock. Either way, he keeps walking. 

It doesn't take long. An hour, maybe two before he spots something in the distance. 

He starts jogging toward it, only to stop when he reaches it and sees a bridge. A very very familiar bridge, in fact. 

He'd somehow left Gotham in one direction, walked away from Gotham and somehow ended up right where he started. 

The Kane memorial bridge looming in front of him as he stares with wide eyes and clenched teeth. He can't leave. Physically cannot leave. 

You can't leave Gotham. Especially when Gotham is the only place that exists in this world. 

Tim hardens his resolve with that thought. Gotham is home. Gotham is his city. Gotham is the city of crime and darkness and Batman. Gotham is his home and no-one will take that away from him. 

Not even this. 

So Tim faces this problem head-on. Doesn't run or hide. No. Instead he thinks forward and takes a step. 

He would not allow this...creature to tarnish his city or his friends.

He would not allow this creature to imitate his family.


	8. Everything goes dreadfully dreadfully wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim confronts the Other Mother and the alternate forms of his friends. It does NOT ho well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pay attention to the tags of body horror and thriller. This is not a lighthearted chapter.

Walking from the bridge to Wayne manor is cathartic. Each step sounding like the thumping of a war drum to his ears. Each breath coming easily to him as he stares his way forward. 

No-one appears in his way. No working girls on the corners, no street kids running along. The only other creature that Tim sees, are the rats. 

Scurrying along the roads and alleys like they have somewhere to be. Like they have something to do. But whenever Tim steps toward them, they stop and still, staring at him with beady button eyes and sharp teeth. 

One of them eventually scurries forward, snarling at Tim as the voice of a thousand rats reverberate through the city as one. 

"We have eyes and we have nerveses  
We have tails and we have teeth  
You will get what you deserveses  
When we rise from underneath"

Tim's chest ties into a knot af the words. At the snarling sound of hundreds, if not thousands of rats. They keep looking at him, staring at him like they plan to eat him alive. 

The button eyes aren't needed to make this creepy. It's creepy on it's own. Though the button eyes certainly makes it so much worse. 

Tim doesn't hesitate before he keeps walking. The rats are creepy, yes. Incredibly creepy. But Tim has a purpose and right now the rats are not part of that purpose. 

He walks. 

The streets of Gotham seem different as he looks. A building here and there just missing. A few gargoyles' wings flapping above him. It isn't Gotham anymore and it isn't even pretending anymore. 

The shadows still move like the living, the sky still dark with smog. None of that is right though. The world is slowly falling apart. 

Tim notices these details, categorises them and files them away in his head. The more information he has, the easier it will be to avoid certain pitfalls. The easier it is to avoid thinking that this Gotham is, in an unbiased view, better than the real one. 

Wayne manor is still imposing. Still grand and dark and filled to the brim with happy memories. But this house didn't create those memories. This house is a fake. 

"Tim" Fake Dick calls out happily. The tone contrasting with the blank buttons that convey nothing. Tim pushes past him, marching directly to the room he woke up in. 

Dick, Jason and Damian follow, asking Tim all kinds of questions and sounding worried. Tim doesn't believe it for one second. Ignores them as he stands in the room where this all started. 

"Come out"

"I know you're here somewhere! I don't know who or what you are but you will come out here and face me!" 

Tim's demands make the three fake brothers shrink back. Either in shock or fear of the thing he's calling. They look at him with wide button eyes, mouths shut tightly and throats clicking as they swallow. It isn't a fitting look for them. Tim never wants to see his brothers look like that again but for that to happen, for him to see them again at all, he has to get out. Has to face this thing. 

"Tim? What's going on?" the voice of Superman asks, suddenly appearing in front of Tim. Which wouldn't be unusual, since Superman can fly and has superspeed. But something is off with this. 

Superman still has buttons for eyes. But his buttons almost look like they're part of him rather than sewn on. They glint in the light, conveying emotion in a way that Tim can't exactly read but can tell what it is supposed to represent. 

Malice. 

"What are you?" Tim asks, pushing the visceral fear out of his mind for the moment as he stares down something that could be much more powerful than him. Something that he doesn't understand. Doesn't really want to understand. 

"Tim. I'm Superman, remember? We talked just yesterday" the thing says, lifting the corners of its mouth into a parody of a smile. It makes Tim's gut swarm with guilt that he ever believed this charade. 

"You aren't Superman. I don't know what you are but firstly, Superman doesn't have buttons for eyes" Tim explains as coldly and clinically as he can. It doesn't work very well, with Tim's voice carrying just that bit of anger, at the situation, at the world and at this thing wearing an ally's face right in front of him. 

The thing grins, then. Showing off more teeth than anyone or anything should have. "So you finally figured it out, hm?" the thing asks with a voice like honey, completely dropping Superman's voice. "We can finally stop playing pretend". 

As if triggered by those words, the dolls in front of him seem to fall apart, the threads that make up their individual features snapping with the sound like breaking bone. White thread like the one he followed unraveling, leaving the dolls motionless. 

Honestly, Tim wishes it happened without a sound. That the dolls went down without a whimper. But when is his life ever that simple or great? 

Instead the dolls scream like being burned alive. 

Their mouths open until the white thread dissolves from their jaws, leaving gaping expressions. Until those too dissolve in a wash of thread and fabric. 

It leaves Tim gaping, with the image of his family, his brothers in agony engraved into his brain. Making white hot fury burn through his veins along with the indignation of whatever-the-hell-this-is making his family suffer as they cease to be. 

They might not actually be Tim's family. But the pain was real. The screams were real. And for that, Tim has sympathy. For that, Tim has hatred brewing in his gut. For that. Tim would avenge them. 

"Did you just...."

"They were no longer required" the thing tilts its head to the side in a mockery of innocence. The multitude of sharp teeth stay present, looking unnatural in Clark's mouth as his lips bulge to accommodate. 

The dolls lay motionless on the ground as Tim stares down this thing. As eyes meet buttons and wills meet in a head on battle. 

"You know, Timothy, you've caused so much trouble lately. I usually go after children, you see. Young and naive and easy to trick"

"But you" it says, lips twisting "you would have run. Would have fought. And I couldn't have that. I even had to hide my signature buttons" she continues, sounding scandalized. Tim just watches her with forced apathy, unsure how any of this actually matters. Though he makes a not of the children kidnaping thing. 

"You would not have seen the buttons and stayed. No. You would not have" 

At this point, the creature is mostly talking to itself, happily ignoring Tim's presence, like a pet in a cage. "You would not have welcomed your Other Mother at all. No. Instead I took the form of an ally of yours. Made 3 dolls that I could change to look like anyone you needed. Only 3 though. Because I had to hide the buttons you see" 

"So I made 3 dolls that I could make and remake and reshape however I want. See?"

With that, one of the blank dolls sit up, rapidly undergoing change from a blank piece of fabric to the face and body of Cissie King-Jones. When Tim freezes, the blood in his veins going cold, he turns to face the Other Mother instead of looking at the resigned expression on his friend's face. 

Turning, he can no longer see Superman. Instead, he sees Anita. Button eyes in place and glinting in malice. Still the other mother but now with a new face. 

"They can become anyone. So can I. We can be anything you need, Tim. Anything and everything" 

"No"

Tim's voice is hoarse as he snaps out the word, rendering the other Mother to silence as he breathes. "You can't be everyone. You can't even be anyone. I may have ignored the signs that something was wrong but the characters were flawed. They aren't my friends and neither are you" 

The blank buttons still stare at him, glossing over Cissie's face, caught in terror as she stares at Tim. "That was quite rude. Maybe you just need some more help" the Other Mother says, voice dripping honey as she stands, Anita's face falling from her skin like layers o flakes off paint. 

"After all. My world is much better than yours. Where your father is dead, your friends are dead and your other parental figure is missing" 

As she speaks, she and the dolls transform. Soon enough, Jack Drake is standing in front of him, with Kon, Bart and Bruce in the background. Looking so hopeful as they plead with Tim to stay. 

"No. Those aren't my friends and you aren't my mother" Tim says but his voice is slightly fainter as he stares at his dead friends. His father by biology and his father by choice all here to see him. All alive and whole. 

"Tim. Your brother thinks your insane. Your two other brothers want you dead. Most of your allies have turned against you. What do you have left?" She asks, voice hard with frustration. 

"My integrity" 

She snarls at the answer, teeth showing once again as her hands briefly flash into claws. "Maybe you need a reminder of just how much worse your world was. Still is actually. I'll give you a crash course" she says, the smile on her face blood curdling. 

Behind her, the dolls once again fall to pieces, undoing themselves and screaming in pain. Slowly, the 3 dolls then start to reform, the white thread creating muscles while other fabrics and threads create 3 replicas. 

It's as if they stopped half way. Bart's skin pale and blue in spots, while others are an angry red. His hair is burnt and frozen and full of blood. Like the day that he died. 

Kon's face and body covered in bruises, blood dripping from his mouth and ears, while his breathing rattles in his chest. 

Jack's face is fine. As normal, disinterested. It would be normal if not for the gold boomerang in his chest. 

They all smile at him, teeth bloody as they speak "Please. Tim please stay. We can be here for you. We can help you. Please" Bart begs, his voice rough and broken as he his skin starts to rot in front of Tim's eyes. "Tim. You tried to bring me back by cloning me. What's so different now? We can be here. We can be good, I promise" Kon goes on, the words dragging Tim's still beating heart over a grater. 

Jack doesn't speak. Doesn't need to. He's never spoken much to Tim while he was alive anyway. 

But they all start to rot in fast motion, skin turning pale before their stomachs bloat, skin splitting and oozing. The skin discoloured further, from pale to green to purple to black and Tim can do nothing but watch as his friends turn to dust before his eyes. 

Turning around to yell at Her, he stops. His heart in his throat and teeth clicking closed. 

Rather than Anita or Superman, the person in front of him is Bruce, standing in front of him dressed in 1300s clothing. He looks strange, Tim has the opportunity to observe before Bruce speaks. 

"Tim please. You're the only one that knows where I am. When I am. If you leave, I'll be stuck here forever" he says, ending the statement with a rattling cough. 

The eyes that look at Tim don't have buttons. They're Bruce's. And that makes it so much worse "If you leave me here, I'll die. Tim. I'll die of the plague, Tim. Please stay". 

Tim's chest clenches around the feeling in his chest. Horror and sorrow and anger all thrown together in one explosive mix. 

"You aren't my dad" he says, choosing to turn away from them all. Looking directly at the wall as he tries to get his emotions under control. 

"You aren't my dad and they aren't my friends. All of this is fake. None of this is real and I won't be affecting any of it!"


	9. Fighting for our lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of the dolls are happy about Tim's insistence to leave

"Well then" She says after Tim's declaration. 

"I'll have to point out that you have no choice" 

Tim scoffs "There's always a choice" but Bruce's lips only turn up into a smile of pity "You cannot leave and I will not send you back. We are at a standstill unless you agree to stay".

Curious, Tim asks "What do you mean, stay?" and her smile turns deadly. She turns and in her hand is a single needle with a white thread that seems to squirm with a life of it's own. In her other hand is a pair of buttons. 

"If you agree, I will sew buttons over your eyes. You can stay here forever. With me. With your friends and family. Even the ones that you lost". 

Tim can't help but recoil in visceral horror at the very thought. That is a no. A hard, absolute no. 

"By your expression, I guess that you're afraid. You don't have to be. It isn't painful. You won't feel a thing. It's very sharp" she says, sliding the tip of the needle across Bart's throat. 

It cuts right through the fabric, leaking sand across the floor as Bart's face turns panicked. Like a person choking on their own blood. The sand continues to fall from the cut, pooling at his feet as he collapses and more sand spills. 

By the time he stops twitching, the floor is covered. 

Tim can't help but stare at the dead body. Drained of essence as his friend is. Dead. 

It does not help Her position. 

"I will never agree. Never" 

The pure loathing in his voice doesn't even rattle her, rather turning her smile pointed as she runs her finger over the tip, tapping on it. It doesn't do much to her, not even piercing skin. 

In the background, Tim can see the sand on the floor sway with an invisible wind. Gathered into a pile, the sand forces itself down the throat of the doll still modeled after Bart. 

He doesn't struggle, doesn't resist, even as his eyes go wide and panicked. Like this has happened enough to desensitize him. 

"Tim" the whimper falls from Bart's lips as he finally fully reforms, eyes resigned to his fate. It makes Tim quake. The fear had left his system by now, leaving only white hot anger and boiling hatred. 

This creature kills these dolls on a regular enough basis that they aren't even phased by it. She causes them pain at any opportunity and, if Tim's suspicions are correct. Gave them the capacity to feel pain for that reason. 

They might be pawns but they're disposable. Fun for her to torture Tim with. For her to use as leverage with Tim's grief. 

She will regret it. Dearly. 

"I won't agree to anything. And you obviously need me to agree before you can do anything.I have leverage here. I can stay here and wait. For the rest of my life, if needed"

The smile she gives him is a mockery of sympathy, bloodlust curling throughout the corners. "You won't. You have a drive, after all. You want to find your precious Batman". She snarled the last words with vehemence. Hatred colouring her voice. 

"No. But I can wait for quite a while. And I am assuming that you don't have much time" 

"Time? Time for what, exactly?" she laughs

"The rumbling of your stomach. It's hunger, isn't it? You're hungry. Very hungry. And Anita had looked at me like I was supposed to be her last meal"

Her share eyes turn to him, assessing "Why yes, I am quite hungry. Maybe I should go on a hunt". She doesn't disguise the hunger in her eyes any longer, visibly reaching for Tim with suddenly clawed fingers. Reaching for his throat. 

Tim doesn't move. Doesn't resist. Just testing, Tim thinks as he watches the steel claws reach for him. Coming closer and closer to the exact spot she had sliced Bart's throat. 

Her hand stops just a centimeter away from his carotid artery. Held away by a force she doesn't control. Even as she slashes and stabs and viciously tries to claw Tim's windpipe from his body. 

She can't touch him. 

Doesn't mean that he can't touch her. But he doesn't want to risk breaking this miraculous shield. The only thing keeping him safe. 

So he does what he does beat in this world. He turns around and walks off. 

Looks at every single corner and hidden crevice as the Other Mother stands there, recovering from her shock. Of course, it doesn't last long. Not nearly long enough. 

Tim doesn't even know where he's going. What he's looking for. But She said that she wouldn't let him leave. Which implies that he can, in fact leave. She'll just try to stop him. 

There wouldn't be an exit sign here somewhere, right? Tim thinks wryly, it's never that simple. No. He has to find the exit on his own. 

It would be in a heavily fortified place, most likely. The place She wouldn't let him near. Most likely in the house. And most likely in the room he just left. 

It makes sense. He woke up there. The first thing he saw in this little dimension. The room he never actually visited until now. 

Bart is the first person to see him, after he walks away. Still button eyed and still looking like death. He blocks Tim's way to the staircase with heavy reluctance. 

"I don't want to fight you, Tim. Please. Don't make me fight you"

It makes Tim smile, as he remembers the alternate universe he once visited with the Titans. The universe where he was a homicidal dictator. Where the only good Titan had been Bart. 

That wasn't this Bart. This thing standing in front of him isn't even Bart. But the plea. The desperation, certainly is. This construct really does not want to fight him. 

"Tim. Please. Just. Let her. It's easier for all of us" Bart says with a tired smile, hiding his fear, his trauma. Just like Bart did. 

"I won't. I won't let her sew buttons over my eyes. But. I won't lose either, Bart. I will make it out of here. Come with me. Please?" 

It's a last ditch attempt. An attempt at swaying something that cannot be swayed. But Tim's conscience would never forgive him if he didn't try. 

For the sake of it, Other Bart, as Tim decides to call him, gives Tim a teary look. "You know I can't" Bart says before starting to run around Tim. 

They might not be able to touch Tim. To kill or hurt him. But Bart doesn't have to touch him to do damage. All he has to do is run around Tim at speed and wait until Tim drops unconscious from lack of oxygen. It's a trick they'd used and strategized over fairly often, both in Young Justice and Teen Titans. 

Luckily, it's also a trick Tim had learned to counter. 

A handful of marbles thrown onto the floor, as Tim reaches for his staff. Bart, instinctively knowing what Tim is planning, avoids the marbles by changing course and running parallel to the floor on the wall. 

It breaks his speed and the vortex he's built up. That's all Tim needs to extend his staff and use the electric pulse he'd installed while with the League to knock Bart unconcious. 

As Bart drops, Tim can see his features smooth, the fabric and thread unraveling to leave a blank, white rag doll on the floor. 

For a moment, Tim watches it. Eyeing the fireplace not to far from where they're standing. It isn't alive, a voice whispers in his head. And it isn't. It's a doll. A doll that can feel pain. 

He eventually turns his head from the flames before he walks up the stairs. Leaving the doll that was once Bart on the floor, unconcious. 

The next person to stop him is Kon, blocking the hallway to his door. 

He's still bloody, his whole body swaying as he stands. His eyes are dilated to different sizes and his one arm looks broken. A walking hazard. 

"Kon" Tim whispers, looking at the boy in front of him with a small smile and dread pooling in his throat like bile. "Kon. I know you don't want to fight me. I know you don't. I can try to take you with me" he says, desperately "Please just let me try"

Kon doesn't even answer, just tilts his head to the side, letting it loll as he sways before Tim can feel pressure over his left hand. 

Tactile Telekinesis. Kon always had been proud of that. But Kon never used his power while injured this badly. And definitely not with a concussion. 

Tim doesn't know what to expect from Other Kon pushing his limits with his power. Apparently, neither does Other Kon. 

His eyes dilate again. Not in response to light but with strain. One of his pupils much wider than the other as his eyes unfocus. 

Tim doesn't even need to do anything after all. Just straining against the TTK weakens Kon further, to the point where Tim can see his eyes change. Not to red the way Kon's eyes usually would, no. But the red veins in his eyes become much more prominent, until his entire sclera is red. 

At that point, Kon can't keep it up. Can't keep hold of Tim as he walks toward his friend, slouched on the floor in exhaustion and pain. Can't stop him from gently pressing between Kon's shoulderblades before he falls to the ground as well. 

This doll doesn't fall unconcious. Rather, as soon as Kon's head hits the floor, as gently as Tim could manage, it pops. Like a balloon. 

Dand spilling over the floor as it leaks from gaps and splits in Kon's head. It still even looks like him, even as the seams become apparent. This time, the doll doesn't reform like Bart's doll had. It says there with sand scattered across the floor like blood. 

Tim can't look at it longer. Turns to the side, where a houseplant sits and vomits up everything he'd eaten over the last few days. He doesn't resist the tears spilling down his cheeks either, letting the hot tears run down. 

He doesn't recover quickly enough. Still with his head in the pot, he feels a hand land on his shoulder. When he instinctively tries to hit the body connected to the hand, they evade his attempt, clenching their hand down harder. 

Tim eventually swings around, not even bothering to wipe the vomit from his lips as he stands to fight. 

In front of him, rather than the one person he expected to be there, being Jack. Instead of Jack, Owens and Z stand in front of him. 

They're both still dressed the way they were back in the desert. Still have the fatal injuries they gained. Z with a sluggishly bleeding wound in his chest and Owens with a bloody slit across his throat, his head only held on by his spine. 

Tim doesn't want to fight them. Knows now that these dolls can be broken. And that they're affected by the wounds of their original inspiration. Knows that he can kill them. 

So he fights dirty, with a quick hit to Z's abdomen, below the wound, as to cause pain but not injure further. Owen's goes down the first time he tries to swing his head around, collapsing to the ground with a hand clasped around his throat in an attempt to keep the sand in his body. 

Both of them lie unconcious on the floor within minutes, Tim only taking a quick look to see Bart's doll gone. Kon...he avoids looking at as much as he can. 

Finally, he arrives at the door to the room. And hopefully, his escape.


	10. Angry Beldame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim faces the Beldame, finally

The door refuses to open. Locked, as his apartment should have been. 

It doesn't hinder Tim for long. As he takes a metal vase stand from the hallway and swings it right through the wood of the door. It breaks the wood in the middle, with Tim widening the gap a few shots later. The forceful hits eventually wear down the wood around the handle enough that he can reach into the door and remove the lock entirely. 

"My my. You are violent today" the same honey sweet voice speaks from the chair by his desk. Clark's face looks at him with sharp teeth and even sharper eyes, that damn needle still in hand. 

Her eyes look Tim over, lingering on every smidge of evidence of his fight with her dolls, the sand stuck to his clothes and the small injuries they'd managed to inflict. Her eyes light up with confidence, at that. 

"Look like my dolls did their jobs. But. They're not done yet, sweety. You still have to say yes"

"I. Will NEVER agree" Tim declares, the image of a dead Kon still fresh in his mind. It stings and hurts and breaks a part of him as he knows that he had now killed someone. No matter how accidental. No matter if the thing had had a life in the first place. The sight of his best friend dead on the ground would never leave him alone. 

"Oh. You say so" She muses, a smile lifting her lips as her buttons shine with happiness "But I'll never let you leave" she says, a note of hunger in her voice, dropping it slightly. An attempt at being menacing, no doubt. 

Tim's smile seems to confuse her before he noises his observations "You can't hurt me. You can't kill me. You can't even actually touch me without my permission. Your dolls may be able to but they're just that. Dolls. 

You have no idea how strong my friends are. You have no idea how to use them effectively. And I will forever be comforted by that fact" 

Her expression turned sour during his explanation, lips pursing around sharp teeth, as they split and spill Black blood across Clark's face. It gives a disturbing look but it gives Tim more information than he knows what to do with. 

She bleeds. 

That's usually a good sign, as most things can die by losing too much blood. Most things can be rendered unconcious by this as well. But Tim doesn't know what to do with it. 

Until he sees the needle in her claws. 

An idea comes to his mind as he stares at the sharp point, the thread dangling from it, squirming and moving as it tries to escape. A suicidal idea. But when has it ever stopped him? 

So he moves. Quickly and efficiently. Lunging at her while she's distracted. 

He catches her off guard, her hand opening in shock, leaving the needle to fall. She can't touch him. Can't touch him, that is, until he touches her. 

The second he makes contact, he knows he has to move quickly. Feels the spandex of Superman's suit under his shoulder as he drives it into Her gut. 

It doesn't do anything to hurt her. Doesn't even phase her as she exclaims in joy. Finally able to touch him. 

With that, she calls reinforcements. Wonder Woman appearing in front of him with Batman and Ra's al Ghul. "The strongest I could find. Now. Do me a favor. And kill him" she says, buttons shining with hatred and hunger and anger. 

They attack at once, Batman immediately starting to go for punches as Diana takes to the air. Ra's stepping in when Bruce retreats, sword in hand as he takes swipes at Tim. 

He can't keep up. Between them all, he has a very good chance of dying. But. If there's one thing he's good at, it's being stubborn. 

He will not die in some pocket universe to become food for an unknown creature. He will not fall. He will not fail. 

So he does all he can. Dodges Ra's as Bruce rejoins the fight, electing to take the punches rather than the cuts. Diana doesn't do much but attempt to lasso him. 

That's their mistake. So far, all of the dolls' personas had their originals' powers. Which has to extend to Diana's lasso of truth. So he allows Diana to lasso him, allows her to catch one of his feet around the ankle before he dives at Bruce. 

Using the excess slack from Diana's momentary suprise, he wraps both Ra's and Bruce in the line, using their weight as a collective to yank her down. Soon, they're all wrapped in the lasso, Tim's foot the only other thing caught. 

It's easy to remove the knot from his foot then, secure in the knowledge that the doll that had been Kon was repaired and on front of him. After all, she had only made 3 dolls. 

Standing, Tim turns to face her. Still lounging in his swivel chair and staring disinterestedly at her dolls in the lasso. Like she does not care at all. Like they're worth less than pawns to her.

She sighs before she stands, Clark's lips still bleeding down her chin as she faces Tim with sharp claws. She doesn't notice the needle in his hand. 

The second she lunges for him, he sidesteps and drags the needle across her back. It cuts just as well as it had during her...presentation, splitting open skin and bleeding just like her lips. 

Tim takes advantage of her momentary shock to lunge at her, head on. Driving the needle into her shoulder as far as it can go. Feeding the thread into the wound. 

It isn't normal thread, naturally. Instead it squirms it's way into her wound and makes her twitch repeatedly as she continues to gun for him. The thread works it way further and further into her body as it keeps moving, a life of it's own. A will of it's own. Not controlled by her. 

She eventually stills, button eyes still conveying her hatred as she lies there motionless. 

It's not what Tim had expected but he will take what he can get. So he looks over Clark's limbs, in an attempt to find a clue. A clue as to where the exit is. And he finds tucked into Clark's pocket. 

A small key. 

The key itself reminds Tim of a diary key or a key for a jewelry box like his mother used to have. A small button shaped back, silver in colour gives it away. As does the panic On her face as he draws back. 

The key is the well, key to his escape somehow. 

It's revealed quickly when Tim remembers one spot that the dolls and she had avoided when he was in the room. The corner of the room, next to the bed. He remembers seeing something out of the corner of his eye there but it seemed to blend in so he didn't pay attention. 

Now, he makes his way toward the anomaly, seeing a small door. Like the door of a playhouse designed for a child. 

They key fits perfectly into the lock, turning it to reveal a dusty hallway-ish. It looks like the inside of an intestine, is the first notation he makes. Then he sees the spiderwebs clinging to every surface, the dust and the little artifacts along the way. 

It's the way out. It has to be. 

So Tim ignores the calls from the dolls with his friends voices. He ignores the enraged shrieking of the Other Mother. 

And he crawls his way out.


	11. Leaving is wont

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. Hopefully ending as promised.

The second the door closes, Tim turns the key in the lock, sealing the door shut forever. He still ignores the calls from his friends as he leopard crawls his way out of the small tunnel. 

Eventually reaching the other side, Tim sees...his room. The room he rented while Tam was away. It's exactly the same, too. Nothing disturbed at all. 

Standing, he has the mind to lock the door in front of him too. He stares at the button on the end of the key with distaste and shock.

He's back. And he isn't sure how to feel about that, either. He knows he should be happy. That he escaped. That he survived. 

But now that he's back he has to think. Has to remember that his friends are dead here. His father murdered and his second father missing in time. His brothers want to kill him and his other brother thinks he's insane. 

Back there. He had all of that. 

He had his friends. Both of his fathers. He had his allies. 

Now he has nothing. Nothing but a small key and home memories he'd rather forget. 

Determination rises in him like a wave at the thought. He has a purpose. He has to save Bruce from the time stream. 

So he stands with the key in his hand and pockets it before he starts working. 

It's shocking to notice that he's still within his deadline for Tam. It had been Tuesday when he last saw her and it was Thursday now. Only 2 days had passed. He decides not to think on it. 

Building up a false record of Caroline Hill's travels as a nurse isn't difficult. Neither is becoming Caroline, in fact it's rather soothing. Getting away from Tim Drake, even if it is only for a bit. 

Caroline strolls right past security. Passes the bag check and writes off everything that is questioned as medical equipment. He leaves the country in a blink. 

The plane ride leaves him with too much time to think. The screams of his friends echoing in his ears unnervingly as he jumps awake from a nightmare. The woman next to him is too drunk on the complimentary Champaign to notice. 

Even arriving at Gotham isn't abnormal. The terminals are the same. The border agents still asking for bribes and the street kids still stand around begging for money. 

The can driver gives Caroline an assessing look before Tim snarls and pulls out a bottle of mace he'd made a permanent addition to this alias. Then he just drives to Tim's apartment as instructed. 

Tim isn't in the mood for anything so he has the taxi drop him off a block from his apartment and he doesn't tip. In Tim's opinion, creeps don't deserve tips. It certainly doesn't help that the driver called him a "slut dressed in a nurse outfit". 

Tim doesn't even deign that with an answer, rather making note of the licences plate to report him. 

The walk to his apartment is uneventful, as he makes sure to keep the mace in view over everyone he can see. Mace stings, everyone knows that, plus it signals a hard target. Sometimes he is so glad that Cass had explained all of the woman things like this to him after he first went out as Caroline. 

At least the apartment is quiet, Tim thinks as he dinks down into his couch. 

The first thing he does is call Tam. Let her know that he's back in the country and will be going in to the office tomorrow for whatever Lucius wants. 

The second thing he does is contact Constantine. 

Suprisingly, Tim doesn't even need to broke him to come out. Once Tim mentions a person with buttons for eyes, Constantine stops him and tells him that he'll be there by the next morning. 

Without anything else to do and the exhaustion pulling at him, Tim goes to bed. Willingly. Doesn't even try the coffee but has some ready for the nightmares that are bound to happen once he enters REM sleep. 

He walked up from nightmares throughout the night but is able to fall asleep again due to exhaustion. The coffee on his bedside table is left alone until the next morning, where Tim downs it in an attempt to wake up, realizing that he's late for Tam's meeting. 

Tam doesn't seem to mind when he shows up, rather parading him around for her father. It gets her off the hook for the Tim thing. Lucius then explains the Bruce Wayne imposter. And that? That does more than spark outrage in Tim's gut. 

It reminds him too much of the dolls. Of the Other Mother. So Tim helps Lucius rip the rug out from under Hush with a smile and a nod. It ends up lifting Tim's spirits for the whole day. 

Or at least, until Constantine showed up. 

The man is rude, as always, doing a magical scan and all sorts of tests as soon as Tim closes the apartment door behind them. Running some sort of pocket watch over the back of Tim's hand and such. 

The things that Constantine do. Not that Tim has any doubt that he knows what he's doing. Constantine may have made a few mistakes but he's always there to test things and at least attempt helping. Even if it does seem reluctant. 

"Well mate. The button eyes are a dead giveaway of a Beldame. You're lucky to have gotten out of there with your soul. Let alone alive" 

"Thanks. That is so reassuring" Tim says, clutching the key to the door in a fist. He'd....neglected to tell Constantine about the key Nobody wanted Constantine to have that kind of thing in his arsenal. At least not after the whole allowing-a-demon-into-his-own-body thing. 

"What can I say mate. I have the best bedside manner. It's what I'm known for, after all" 

Tim shakes his head at that, knowing that he should have expected the comeback. Constantine was known for being rude and blunt. Constantine was known for helping out friends. Known for taking care of stuff the likes of Zatanna would flinch at. Not for being reassuring.

So Tim allows him out, knowing that Constantine usually had something else to deal with. In this case someone names Z, which makes tim flinch inwardly, Z's face coming to mind immediately. 

Constantine pretends not to notice and leaves swiftly, calling for someone called Manny while he talks on the phone with his best friend Chaz. 

It leaves Tim bereft, empty as he muses over everything Constantine had told him about Beldames. Which isn't much. The button eyes. Kidnapping kids from unhappy households. Something about stealing your soul with your eyes but that's it.

Nothing about the dolls or the dimension or even the key. 

Absolutely nothing. And that's exactly what Tim feels as he stares up at his ceiling. 

xxxxxxx

The next few months go swimmingly. Bad enough that he doesn't suspect that he's been dragged into an alternate universe again but good. 

He'd brought Bruce back from the time stream with the help of Booster Gold. Dick's face really was worth it. 

Unfortunately Damian is still Robin and Jason is still...Jason. But he'd done what he'd come back to do. And that is all that really matters. 

And then. 

He gets the news. 

Kon and Bart are alive. As a result of some time travel and other nuisances. But that doesn't matter. 

He calls for Kon on a rooftop the minute he has the chance, asking him to bring Bart as well. 

For a second, nothing happens and Tim panics. What if he's in another dimension again? What if they're still dead? What if they died again? 

Kon's arrival quiets those thoughts, Kon sweeping Tim up in a hug, mid-flight as always. And Tim can see a streak of orange on the street below them as Kon continues to fly during the hug. Bart is here after all, then. 

It is confirmed when Kon lands on the roof, Bart coming to a stop next to them with a gust of wind that blows Tim's hair back. It makes Tim's heart soar when he sees his two best friends, previously dead, now here. In front of him. Alive. And not fake. 

He even checks by running a hand over Kon's eyes. "Uh....Tim?" Kon asks, confused but then Tim feels a tear skip over his cheek. Both Kon and Bart stop then to hug him. 

They tell him what happened when they were resurrected and Tim told them about how he became Red Robin. The outrage on their faces makes him so so happy when they hear about what Dick and Damian had done. 

He skirts around the Beldame and her dimension but Bart quickly stops that attempt in its tracks. Tim then tells them everything. About the Beldame, about the dolls, about them. About what Tim did. And how he got out. 

"Tim. You know I don't blame you, right? It might have looked like me but it wasn't me. And it was trying to kill you" Kon says, Bart nodding along behind him with a somber expression. 

Tim tears up again as he drags them into another hug. 

He hands Kon the key with a teary smile and relief in his heart. 

Kon uses his super strength to crush it beyond recognition and then uses his heat vision to melt it down. Once it cools down enough, Bart speeds away with it, reporting that he'd tossed it somewhere over the arctic. 

This is why he loves his friends.


End file.
